Book Spotlight and Snippet: A Matter of Time: Henry VIII, the Dying of the Light by Judith Arnopp

 

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With youth now far behind him, King Henry VIII has only produced one infant son and two bastard daughters. More sons are essential to secure the Tudor line and with his third wife, Jane Seymour dead, Henry hunts for a suitable replacement.

After the break from Rome, trouble is brewing with France and Scotland. Thomas Cromwell arranges a diplomatic marriage with the sister of the Duke of Cleves but when it comes to women, Henry is fastidious, and the new bride does not please him. The increasingly unpredictable king sets his sights instead upon Katherine Howard and instructs Cromwell to free him from the match with Cleves.

Failure to rid the king of his unloved wife could cost Cromwell his head.

Henry, now ailing and ageing, is invigorated by his flighty new bride but despite the favours he heaps upon her, he cannot win Katherine’s heart. A little over a year later, broken by her infidelity, she becomes the second of his wives to die on the scaffold, leaving Henry friendless and alone.

But his stout heart will not surrender and leaving his sixth wife, Katheryn Parr, installed as regent over England, Henry embarks on a final war to win back territories lost to the French more than a century before. Hungry for glory, the king is determined that the name Henry VIII will shine brighter and longer than that of his hero, Henry V.

Told from the king’s perspective, A Matter of Time: Henry VIII: the Dying of the Light shines a torch into the heart and mind of England’s most tyrannical king.

 Buy Links

Universal Buy Links to the three titles in the series:

 A Matter of Conscience: https://mybook.to/amoc

A Matter of Faith: https://mybook.to/amofaith 

A Matter of Time: https://mybook.to/amot

****** 

SNIPPET 

 Summer 1539 Greenwich - Henry looking at a painting

Ah, the discomfiture of love. I’ve been in love with one woman or another since before I reached manhood. I first met Caterina when I was a boy of ten, and when I tired of her, Anne was waiting who, in turn, was usurped in my heart by Jane.

I had not yet wearied of Jane when she was taken from me after giving me my heart’s desire – my son. I was not ready to lose her, and there was no woman waiting to take her place as my queen. Now, there is just a void where she once was and, according to my Council, it is a queen I need.

I have my son, my heir, but one boy is never enough, not for any king and especially not for me. They tell me a political match will not only secure the realm against the threat posed by the Holy Roman Emperor but will also provide a brother for Prince Edward; a young Duke of York who will stand at his sibling’s side in times of crisis – a younger stalwart brother such as I never had.

Although I did well enough.

A door opens, the curtain drifts in the movement of air, but I do not take my eyes from hers. I will make this woman my queen; she will warm my bed, she will soothe my aching need and she will further strengthen the Tudor line. She will bear my children. If anyone can give me strong sons, it is she.

A footstep, a light touch upon my arm.

I turn, still dazed by the painted vision of Christina.

“Anne,” I say, my voice husky from prolonged silence. “Is it that time already?”

 

A lifelong history enthusiast and avid reader, Judith holds a BA in English/Creative writing and an MA in Medieval Studies. She lives on the coast of West Wales where she writes both fiction and non-fiction. She is best known for her novels set in the Medieval and Tudor period, focusing on the perspective of historical women but recently she has been writing from the perspective of Henry VIII himself.

Judith is also a founder member of a re-enactment group called The Fyne Companye of Cambria which is when she began to experiment with sewing historical garments. She now makes clothes and accessories both for the group and others. She is not a professionally trained sewer but through trial, error and determination has learned how to make authentic looking, if not strictly historically accurate clothing. Her non-fiction book, How to Dress like a Tudor was published by Pen and Sword in 2023.

Her novels include:

A Song of Sixpence: the story of Elizabeth of York

The Beaufort Chronicle: the life of Lady Margaret Beaufort (three book series)

A Matter of Conscience: Henry VIII, the Aragon Years (Book One of The Henrician Chronicle)

A Matter of Faith: Henry VIII, the Days of the Phoenix (Book Two of The Henrician chronicle)

A Matter of Time: Henry VIII, the Dying of the Light (Book Three, Coming soon)

The Kiss of the Concubine: a story of Anne Boleyn

The Winchester Goose: at the court of Henry VIII

Intractable Heart: the story of Katheryn Parr

Sisters of Arden: on the Pilgrimage of Grace

The Heretic Wind: the life of Mary Tudor, Queen of England

Peaceweaver

The Forest Dwellers

The Song of Heledd

Previously published under the pen name – J M Ruddock.

The Book of Thornhold

A Daughter of Warwick: the story of Anne Neville, Queen of Richard III

  Author Links: 

Website: www.judithmarnopp.com

Blog: http://www.juditharnoppnovelist.blogspot.co.uk/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JudithArnopp

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/thetudorworldofjuditharnopp

LinkedIn: www.linkedin.com/in/judith-arnopp-ba999025

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/tudor_juditharnopp/

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Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/jarnopp/

Book Bub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/judith-arnopp

Amazon Author Page: https://author.to/juditharnoppbooks

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4088659.Judith_Arnopp

How many executions was Henry VIII responsible for?

History Extra

It is impossible to tell for sure, and historians have no definitive number. It is estimated that anywhere from 57,000 to 72,000 people were executed during Henry’s 37 years’ reign, but this is likely to be an exaggeration.

 Henry’s break with Papal authority, and his second marriage – which was not sanctioned by the Pope – caused a rift between Henry and certain individuals at court, many of whom he knew well, and in some cases was close to.

 Those who either refused to adhere to his Act of Succession or those considered to be heretics were executed, but Henry also executed numerous potential rivals to the throne; two wives and their alleged lovers; leaders of the Pilgrimage of Grace, and his trusted advisor, Thomas Cromwell.

 Lauren Mackay is the author of Inside the Tudor Court: Henry VIII and his Six Wives through the Life and Writings of the Spanish Ambassador, Eustace Chapuys (Amberley Publishing).

Was Henry VIII a good king?

History Extra

The success of Henry’s reign is mixed. Economically, England flourished, partially at the expense of countless monasteries and religious houses. But Henry was also a patron of the arts and humanist learning, and was a driving force behind an enthusiastic building campaign.

He also fortified England, building an impressive navy that would impact the reigns of Mary I and Elizabeth I. But it is perhaps his break with papal authority and his six marriages for which he is best known.

 The break with Rome arguably gave England a sense of national identity, and Henry’s numerous wives and matrimonial dramas have captured our imaginations.

Lauren Mackay is the author of Inside the Tudor Court: Henry VIII and his Six Wives through the Life and Writings of the Spanish Ambassador, Eustace Chapuys (Amberley Publishing).

A Grand Gesture: Henry VIII and the Westminster Tournament

Medievalists

The Westminster Tournament Challenge, 1511, British Library, Harley 83 H I.

By Natalie Anderson

This Valentine’s Day, if you’re stuck for something to do, you might like to take inspiration from Henry VIII of England, who, in February 1511, hosted an extravagant tournament in honour of his (then) wife, Katherine of Aragon and their new-born son.

Henry celebrated the birth of his much-desired son with Katherine by hosting a grand tournament in Westminster. This might seem like the ultimate romantic gesture, but, in fact, the star of this show was Henry and no one else. Henry was the second son of the previous king, Henry VII, and was never meant to be king (that honour should have gone to his brother, Arthur). When Arthur died, the young Henry was dragged from his life of courtly leisure and into a role he hadn’t been prepared for. Henry brought with him his love of jousting – and all the extravagance, spectacle, and intense competition that came along with it. Unlike the popular modern image of the elderly, corpulent Henry, as a young man the king was slim and fit and bursting with energy.

The tournament was held over two days: 12-13 February. The cost for those two days came to over £4,000 – a hefty sum. The announcement for the event came in the form of an elaborate allegorical letter, which was said to be sent out by the queen of the land of Cuere Noble, who was sending her four champions to joust against any who wished to challenge them. These champions were to include, of course, Henry, jousting under the moniker Noble Cuere Loyall, and three other prominent knights of his court, each of whom also competed under assumed names – a romantic tradition common to the form of tournament known as a pas d’armes held in the prosperous court of Burgundy.

The Westminster tournament is so well known today, because it was immortalised in the Westminster Tournament Roll. Almost sixty feet long, the Roll was produced as, essentially, a piece of propaganda, and, although it was purportedly made in honour of Katherine and her new-born son, Henry is the undisputed central figure of the document. It was meant to record the magnificence of Henry and his court and to gain him recognition on the European stage as a powerful and prosperous monarch. After all, he had only come to the throne two years early, in 1509, and he was only eighteen when he did so.

Henry was canny enough to see the use of the tournament as a tool – similar to the aging Holy Roman Emperor and fellow jousting fanatic Maximilian I, whom Henry admired. He made tournaments a central part of Tudor court life and made an effort to project his prestige through displays of wealth and theatre. This was a very different tactic from his more reserved and fiscally conservative father, Henry VII. And the tournament in the sixteenth century was perfectly suited to serve as Henry’s political tool. It was moving further and further away from its original purpose as a form of military training and was evolving into a distinct sport that was a unique blend of theatre and athletic skill.

Henry VIII tilting in front of Katherine of Aragon, Westminster Tournament Roll, College of Arms

The Westminster Tournament Roll is divided into three scenes: the entry of the competitors into the lists, Henry jousting against an opponent, and the procession out of the lists. Although Henry is, unsurprisingly, central to each of these scenes, he really takes centre stage in the second, which is the only scene of actual tournament action in the Roll. In it, Henry can also be seen breaking his lance on his opponent’s helm. Now, this was the best possible stroke it was possible to score in a joust, so the viewer ought to be impressed by Henry’s prowess. However, the image is entirely fiction; in fact, Henry never actually scored this hit. The artist of the Roll embellished his success; he was the king, after all.

If you want to see more images from the Westminster Tournament Roll, the John Blanke Project, ‘a contemporary Art and Archive project celebrating John Blanke, the Black trumpeter to the courts of Henry VII &; Henry VIII’ (that I first mentioned in my interview with Black Tudors author Miranda Kaufmann) has been tweeting images from the Roll, following along with the action as it unfolded. Of course, we know that Katherine was not to remain Henry’s wife (and their son was tragically short-lived). And, clearly, Henry made sure that the Westminster Tournament and the accompanying Roll was focused more on him than anyone else. So perhaps, after all, Henry VIII is not the person to look to for inspiration this Valentine’s Day…

How jousting made a man of Henry VIII

History Extra

How jousting made a man of Henry VIII Research suggests Henry VIII was angry, impulsive and even rendered impotent by a brain injury suffered while jousting. Here, Emma Levitt explores Henry's love of jousting and reveals how, denied the opportunity to prove his worth on the battlefield, Henry VIII chose to display his masculinity in the tiltyard, bedecked in shining armour and with lance in hand...

“The king hath promised never to joust again except it be with as good a man as himself.” So stated an angry Henry VIII on 20 May 1516, following a tournament held in honour of his sister Margaret, Queen of Scots. Jousting was the king’s favourite sport, but the day had proved disastrous. As always, Henry was captain of the Challengers, the team comprising the jousting elite of the Tudor court: Sir Nicholas Carew; Henry Bourchier, Earl of Essex; and Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk.

The opposing team, the Answerers, consisted of a dozen other jousting enthusiasts from court. They waited in the lists (the barriers that defined the edge of the tournament ground) to answer the challenges given by Henry and his three dashing knights.

Henry was a highly skilled jouster. But what should have been a well-fought and exciting series of duels turned into a succession of bad runs and complete misses, making for a disappointing display. The king, the ultimate showman, was not impressed by the performances of certain knights in the Answerers. Henry blamed them for limiting his final score, arguing that they had failed to keep their horses close enough to the barrier for him to make contact and score points.

The king made it clear that, from then on, it was essential he should compete only against skilled jousters. That way, if he won, the victory would confirm that he was the best jouster – and, by extension, the best man – at court. But Henry hated winning too easily. Each challenge was to be a hard-won battle. It was vital to his manly reputation that competitors did not let him triumph simply because he was king.

To Henry VIII, the joust was more than just a sport – it was a vital part of his kingship. And he modelled this kingship on a particular version of chivalrous masculinity inspired by the archetypal medieval knight bedecked in shining armour, charging down the tiltyard with lance ready to strike his opponent.

 For Henry, knighthood was not just an ideal but an active ideology; to his mind, it was essential that 16th-century men still demonstrated such proficiency in arms. He longed to showcase this prowess in battle, to be acknowledged as a warrior king, like Henry V, and started making plans to go to war with France after his accession to the throne in 1509. But his ambition to have his own Agincourt was not to be realised. So, for most of his reign, the tournament was not just a training ground for warfare but also the means by which Henry and his nobles could showcase their warrior skills and chivalrous accomplishments.

 Despite improvements, jousting remained a dangerous sport, which is why kings usually refrained from participating. Yet for Henry and men such as Charles Brandon it provided the perfect platform for shows of prowess – and manliness – in front of a great audience.

Charles Brandon’s jousting skills helped propel him up the social ladder. (© Bridgeman)

Keeping score
 For all their testosterone-fuelled swagger, the jousters’ conduct was governed by a concise and coherent set of rules that informed a sophisticated scoring system. A ‘king of arms’ marked each contestant’s score in strokes on a scoring tablet known as a cheque. The scoreboard sported three horizontal lines showing the number of courses run. Attaints (hits) were noted on the top line, often differentiated as blows to the body or head. The middle line tallied the number of lances broken, and the bottom line recorded faults.

When Henry VIII was searching for a man “as good as himself”, he needed to look no further than Charles Brandon. The product of a modest gentry background, Brandon attained the highest social status, becoming Duke of Suffolk in 1514 and marrying Henry VIII’s sister Mary Tudor in 1515 – an almost unprecedented ascent up the social ladder.

When I studied the score cheques for Henry VIII’s reign in detail, the reason for Brandon’s meteoric rise soon became obvious: his brilliance as a jouster. Brandon was the perfect companion for Henry, whom he resembled in both looks and build, and regularly jousted alongside the king in a team of two Challengers against all the Answerers.

A tournament cheque from Henry VIII’s reign shows, in the left column, the points scored by the Challengers – the team comprising the king, the Duke of Suffolk (Charles Brandon), the Earl of Essex and Sir Nicholas Carew. Their opponents’ tallies are shown in the right-hand column. (© College of Arms MS Tournament Cheque 1c. Reproduced by permission of the Kings, Heralds and Pursuivants of Arms)

In the 1516 tournament Brandon was on Henry’s side, so would not have competed against the king. The cheque reveals that, unlike Henry, Brandon was on top form, losing not a single duel and achieving the highest overall score of all four Challengers. On the second day of the tournament, Brandon broke 17 lances compared with Henry’s 12.

So Henry decided that Brandon would henceforth joust directly against him, leading the Answerers. In this way, at least one of Henry’s duels promised to be a valiant martial display. When the two were matched against each other, one observer compared their fight to that between Hector and Achilles.

This new arrangement created a win-win situation for the king. Not only would Brandon joust against all Henry’s Challengers and beat them, he would then do his duty to the crown and let the king beat him. In this way, Henry would effectively triumph – but it was Brandon who would do all the hard work.

The cheques help explain how a non-noble man not born for high office could achieve high status. Charles Brandon proved time and again to Henry that he was indeed a man “as good as himself”.

Pageantry with a punch
How the Tudor joust worked
 Jousting dominated the cultural environment of court during the first half of Henry VIII’s reign. Like modern sports events, tournaments attracted competitors and spectators from afar.

 The joust was fought between two knights riding from opposite ends of the lists to encounter each other with lances.

The Challengers was a small team of knights who would challenge all competitors. The opposing team, known as the Answerers, comprised knights who answered the challenge. The Challengers often displayed their shields on a tree known as the ‘Tree of Chivalry’ or ‘Tree of Honour’. Each Answerer would respond, indicating the knight against whom he wished to compete, by hitting the shield of his chosen Challenger.

By the reign of Henry VIII, the joust had become a more formalised competition. A number of rules were introduced, as well as score cheques; prizes were awarded by the queen, and her ladies might add a gold crown, a gold clasp, a diamond ring or even a falcon.

Cheques showed the scores of the competing knights. Points were awarded for unhorsing a knight, breaking two spears tip to tip, striking an opponent’s helmet and breaking the most spears.

Yet there was a lot more to the joust than fighting. By the time of Henry VIII’s reign, it had become a lavish spectacle, with knights entering the lists in fanciful disguises and pageant cars before performing heroic speeches.

Emma Levitt is a PhD student at the University of Huddersfield, working on court culture in the reigns of Edward IV and Henry VIII.

7 things you (probably) didn’t know about Henry VIII's flagship the Mary Rose

History Extra

For 34 years the Mary Rose was Henry VIII’s flagship. Faced with the threat of the French navy and a strong Scottish fleet, Henry started building up his naval firepower as soon as he became king. Built in Portsmouth, the Mary Rose was launched in 1511.

 • The Mary Rose first saw battle in 1512, in a naval operation with the Spanish against the French. The English attacked the French and Breton fleets in the English Channel, while the Spanish attacked them in the Bay of Biscay. The ship also helped escort English troops over to France when, in 1522, the countries went head to head once more.

 • There were 415 crew members listed on board the Mary Rose in 1513, but during wartime operations there would have been more on board – numbers could have reached around 700 in total, says the Mary Rose Museum. Even with the normal crew size of around 400, conditions would have been very crowded. Most people on board were in their late teens or early twenties.

 • The Mary Rose sank in July 1545 in the battle of the Solent. Hundreds of men aboard the ship drowned, and only around 25 survived. There could be a number of reasons why she sank while turning: human error, overloading, a gust of wind that made the ship unstable, or a cannonball fired by the French. The most likely reason for the loss of the ship was human error, says the Mary Rose Museum.

 • The ship was discovered in May 1971, and raised in 1982. As the Mary Rose sank into very fine silt, much of the ship and the items on board – including tools owned by onboard carpenters, ointments and medicine flasks used by the surgeon, and a large number of wooden dishes – are very well preserved.

 • The remains of a small dog named Hatch were found on board the ship. Although he can’t be attributed to a specific breed, most of which originated after 1545, he is classed as a terrier-type, most closely related to the Jack Russell. Hatch's remains went on display four years ago at the Mary Rose Museum.

 • Approximately 19,000 artefacts have been recovered from the wreck site, which has taken more than 30 years to excavate. Now in the final stages of conservation, she today sits in the Mary Rose Museum in Portsmouth. Source: the Mary Rose Museum

5 things you (probably) didn’t know about the Tudors

History Extra

1) The Tudors should never have got anywhere near the throne
When Henry Tudor defeated Richard III at the battle of Bosworth in 1485, the vast majority of his subjects saw him as a usurper – and they were right. There were other claimants with stronger blood claims to the throne than his.

 Henry’s own claim was on the side of his indomitable mother, Lady Margaret Beaufort, who was the great granddaughter of John of Gaunt, fourth son of Edward III, and his third wife (and long-standing mistress), Katherine Swynford. But Katherine had given birth to John Beaufort (Henry’s great grandfather) when she was still John’s mistress, so Henry’s claim was through an illegitimate line – and a female one at that.

 Little wonder that he was plagued by rivals and ‘pretenders’ for most of his reign.

 2) School was for the ‘lucky’ few
Education was seen as something of a luxury for most Tudors, and it was usually the children of the rich who received anything approaching a decent schooling.

 There were few books in Tudor schools, so pupils read from 'hornbooks' instead. Pages displaying the alphabet and religious material were attached to wooden boards and covered with a transparent sheet of cow horn (hence the name).

 Discipline was much fiercer than it is today. Teachers would think nothing of punishing their pupils with 50 strokes of the cane, and wealthier parents would often pay for a ‘whipping-boy’ to take the punishment on behalf of their child. Barnaby Fitzpatrick undertook this thankless task for the young Edward VI, although the two boys did become best friends.

 3) Tudor London was a mud bath
Andreas Franciscius, an Italian visitor to London in 1497, was horrified by what he found. Although he admired the “fine” architecture, he was disgusted by the “vast amount of evil-smelling mud" that covered the streets and lasted a long time – nearly the whole year round.

 The citizens, therefore, in order to remove this mud and filth from their boots, are accustomed to spread fresh rushes on the floors of all houses, on which they clean the soles of their shoes when they come in.”

 Franciscius added disapprovingly that the English people had “fierce tempers and wicked dispositions”, as well as “a great antipathy to foreigners”.

 4) Edward VI’s dog was killed by his uncle
Edward was just nine years old when he became king, and his court was soon riven by faction. Although the king’s uncle, Edward Seymour, had been appointed Lord Protector, he was undermined by the behaviour of his hot-headed and ambitious brother, Thomas.

 In January 1549, Thomas Seymour made a reckless attempt to kidnap the king. Breaking into Edward’s privy garden at Westminster, pistol in hand, Thomas tried to gain access to the king’s bedroom, but was lunged at by the boy’s pet spaniel.

 Without thinking, he shot the dog dead, which prompted a furore as the royal guard rushed forward, thinking that an assassin was in the palace. Thomas Seymour was arrested and taken to the Tower. He was found guilty of treason shortly afterwards, and his own brother was obliged to sign the death warrant.

 5) Elizabeth I owned more than 2,000 dresses
When her mother, Anne Boleyn, was executed, Elizabeth was so neglected by her father, Henry VIII, that she soon outgrew all of her clothes, and her servant was forced to write to ask for new ones. 

Perhaps the memory of this humiliation prompted Elizabeth, as queen, to stuff her wardrobes with more than 2,000 beautiful dresses, all in rich fabrics and gorgeous colours.

 But despite her enormous collection, she always wanted more. When one of her maids of honour, Lady Mary Howard, appeared in court wearing a strikingly ostentatious gown, the queen was so jealous that she stole it, and paraded around court in it herself.

5 things you (probably) didn’t know about Henry VIII

History Extra

c1540, a portrait of King Henry VIII. An engraving by T A Dean from a painting by Hans Holbein. (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images)

1) Henry VIII was slim and athletic for most of his life
At six feet two inches tall, Henry VIII stood head and shoulders above most of his court. He had an athletic physique and excelled at sports, regularly showing off his prowess in the jousting arena. 

Having inherited the good looks of his grandfather, Edward IV, in 1515 Henry was described as “the handsomest potentate I have ever set eyes on…” and later an “Adonis”, “with an extremely fine calf to his leg, his complexion very fair…and a round face so very beautiful, that it would become a pretty woman”.

 All this changed in 1536 when the king – then in his mid-forties – suffered a serious wound to his leg while jousting. This never properly healed, and instead turned ulcerous, which left Henry increasingly incapacitated.

 Four years later, the king’s waist had grown from a trim 32 inches to an enormous 52 inches. By the time of his death, he had to be winched onto his horse. It is this image of the corpulent Henry VIII that has obscured the impressive figure that he cut for most of his life.

 2) Henry VIII was a tidy eater
Despite the popular image of Henry VIII throwing a chicken leg over his shoulder as he devoured one of his many feasts, he was in fact a fastidious eater. Only on special occasions, such as a visit from a foreign dignitary, did he stage banquets.

 Most of the time, Henry preferred to dine in his private apartments. He would take care to wash his hands before, during and after each meal, and would follow a strict order of ceremony.

 Seated beneath a canopy and surrounded by senior court officers, he was served on bended knee and presented with several different dishes to choose from at each course.

 3) Henry was a bit of a prude
England’s most-married monarch has a reputation as a ladies’ man – for obvious reasons. As well as his six wives, he kept several mistresses and fathered at least one child by them.

 But the evidence suggests that, behind closed doors, he was no lothario. When he finally persuaded Anne Boleyn to become his mistress in body as well as in name, he was shocked by the sexual knowledge that she seemed to possess, and later confided that he believed she had been no virgin. 

When she failed to give him a son, he plumped for the innocent and unsullied Jane Seymour instead. 

4) Henry’s chief minister liked to party
Although often represented as a ruthless henchman, Thomas Cromwell was in fact one of the most fun-loving members of the court. His parties were legendary, and he would spend lavish sums on entertaining his guests – he once paid a tailor £4,000 to make an elaborate costume that he could wear in a masque to amuse the king.

 Cromwell also kept a cage of canary birds at his house, as well as an animal described as a “strange beast”, which he gave to the king as a present.

 5) Henry VIII sent more men and women to their deaths than any other monarch
 During the later years of Henry’s reign, as he grew ever more paranoid and bad-tempered, the Tower of London was crowded with the terrified subjects who had been imprisoned at his orders.

 One of the most brutal executions was that of the aged Margaret de la Pole, Countess of Salisbury. The 67-year-old countess was woken early on the morning of 27 May 1541 and told to prepare for death. 

Although initially composed, when Margaret was told to place her head on the block, her self-control deserted her and she tried to escape. Her captors were forced to pinion her to the block, where the amateur executioner hacked at the poor woman’s head and neck, eventually severing them after the eleventh blow.

Henry VIII: 5 places you (probably) didn’t know shaped his life

History Extra

Henry VIII. Portrait by Hans Holbein the Younger, 1540. The painting has the inscription 'Anno Aetatis suae XLIX' (His year of age, 49)’. Palazzo Barberini, Rome, Italy. (Photo by PHAS/UIG via Getty Images)

Ludlow Castle

Henry never visited Ludlow Castle and yet events there were to have the greatest and most irreversible impact upon his life. In November 1501, Arthur Tudor, the eldest son of Henry VII and Elizabeth of York (and Henry’s VIII’s older brother), married the Spanish princess Catherine of Aragon at old St Paul’s Cathedral. Following the wedding the new Prince and Princess of Wales moved to Ludlow Castle in Shropshire, seat of the Council of the Marches, where Arthur’s role at its head was considered to be good preparation for his eventual role as king. But it was not to be. Arthur died quickly and unexpectedly on 2 April 1502. The cause of death is uncertain but it was a shock to all. Arthur's death was a huge personal, as well as political, tragedy for the Tudor family. With his older brother dead, Henry’s future was altered completely and irreversibly. He was now heir to the throne with all the expectation, pressure and duty that entailed, including the essential task of securing the Tudor line of succession. One of Henry’s first decisions as king was to marry, and he chose his brother’s widow, Catherine. As time ticked by, and despite numerous pregnancies, the royal couple had not produced a surviving male heir. Henry found that his conscience was becoming troubled and he began looking for a reason why he and Catherine remained “childless” (as Henry saw it, despite having a living daughter, Mary). He turned to the Bible for answers. Two passages from Leviticus, which refer to the taking of a brother’s wife, gave Henry reason to believe, with sincerity, that God was punishing him for marrying Catherine. His argument rested on his belief that Catherine was not a virgin when they married. Catherine herself maintained that she was “virgo intacta” and actively opposed Henry’s theory. Her steadfastness made it frustratingly difficult for Henry to convince others of his logic. The unsuccessful negotiations to secure an annulment of the marriage from Pope Clement VII ultimately led to Henry making the momentous decision to break from the church in Rome. Catherine and Arthur had been married for six months – is it possible they had not had sex during that time? Would the pious Catherine have jeopardised her soul by maintaining a lie even on her deathbed? If only the ruined walls of Ludlow Castle could talk, they could tell us what really happened in the prince’s bedchamber!


Eltham Palace

As a child, Henry VIII had enjoyed a more relaxed, less rigid upbringing and education than his older brother Arthur. Being only the ‘spare’ and not the heir, Henry was not required to spend as much time in his father’s court and he therefore enjoyed more time in his mother’s company. As a result they had a very close relationship. It was unequivocally the most important relationship in terms of shaping the young Henry’s picture of what a royal wife and mother should be, and how she should behave. Much of their time was spent at the palace her father Edward IV had favoured, at Eltham, along the River Thames from London. It was here that Henry first met and impressed the scholar Erasmus, introduced to him by Thomas More. As king, Henry VIII invested a lot of money into Eltham and built a chapel there. He and Anne Boleyn visited on 24 November 1533 on their return from France where they had met King Francis at the famous ‘Field of Cloth of Gold’, near Balingnem. The relative peace that the country enjoyed under Henry VII can be attributed in part to his marriage to Elizabeth of York, which had effectively joined the warring Houses of York and Lancaster. That stability was threatened with the unexpected death of Arthur Prince of Wales in 1502. With only one male child, Elizabeth of York was expected to perform her royal duty once again; this time, though, there were to be tragic consequences. Elizabeth fell pregnant but, following the premature birth of a baby girl within the White Tower at the Tower of London, she died on 11 February 1503, her 37th birthday. Henry was aged 11: old enough to be fully aware of events, young enough to truly feel the loss of a mother. Some historians and writers have played down or even omitted to discuss the impact of Elizabeth’s death on Henry, potentially misunderstanding the strength of bond between mother and son. It is true that Henry had a ‘lady mistress’ who took care of him day-to-day, but we should not assume from this that he did not suffer the loss of his mother greatly. In 2012, an incredible discovery at the National Library of Wales revealed an illustrated manuscript containing a painting showing the 11-year-old Henry crying at the empty bedside of his dead mother. The painting indicates not only that Henry's grief was real but that it was recognised and accepted. The impact of losing his mother, with whom he had built such a strong bond during the many hours spent with her at Eltham Palace, is worth consideration when thinking about Henry’s subsequent relationships with women, wives in particular. Was he subconsciously, maybe even consciously, looking for the perfect wife to emulate his mother? Despite Eltham’s significance, only the great hall built by Edward IV, Henry’s Yorkist grandfather, survives. The palace fell into decline after the reign of James I and suffered grave damage when occupied by parliamentary troops during the Civil War in the 17th century. The ruined great hall, once splendid for court occasions, was even used as a cattle barn during the 18th century.

The Mary Rose

 The Mary Rose, raised from the seabed in 1982, was the flagship of Henry VIII’s navy and now sits in her permanent home within Portsmouth Historic Dockyard along with a myriad of artefacts brought up with her from the bottom of the Solent. She was built in around 1511, two years after Henry became king, and sank on 19 July 1545, two years before Henry died, thus her service spanned almost his entire reign. She is a physical representation of Henry’s navy and the people who served aboard her. Henry’s divorce from Catherine of Aragon and consequential break with Rome produced a real and unrelenting threat of invasion from Catholic countries loyal to the Pope. Henry spent a fortune on ships and a series of land-based coastal defences to protect England from attack. His fears were realised in July 1545 when a French invasion force intent on landing on the English mainland gathered off the Isle of Wight. Henry travelled to Portsmouth to inspect his fleet, which included the 34-year-old Mary Rose. On 19 July the wind turned in favour of the English and the Mary Rose went into battle with the rest of the fleet. There are a number of theories as to how the ship sank, one of which is that after firing at the French galleys she made a quick turn, at which point the wind caught her sails, causing her to bank so far over that water entered the gun ports which had not yet been closed. Whatever the cause, her demise was swift. Within minutes she was below the waves, taking the lives of the majority of her crew with her. From his vantage point on the battlements of Southsea Castle, where he was gathered with a land army, Henry saw all. He could hear the cries of the drowning men and exclaimed “Oh, my gentlemen! Oh, my gallant men!”


Waltham Abbey

Henry went on regular pilgrimages to see the miraculous black cross at Waltham Abbey, an Augustine monastery north of London. According to records, he was here in 1510; again when sweating sickness ravaged London in 1528; in July 1529 and August 1532, when he was accompanied by Anne Boleyn during their summer progress. The dissolution of the monasteries which, over four years, had altered the landscape, economy and social welfare system of the country, ended here in March 1540. A walk around the Abbey gardens today gives an impression of how vast the Abbey complex was and, from that, an idea of just how large scale the dissolution was both to individual abbeys and their communities. The presence of a screen, which separated the nave from the Canon’s building, allowed the local people to claim part of the Abbey as their parish church, and remains so to this day . Henry’s actions – breaking with Rome, destroying the monasteries and declaring himself as head of the Church in England – has misled many writers and educators into assuming Henry had protestant sympathies or indeed had become a Protestant. But as far as Henry was concerned there was still only one form of Christianity, what we know today as Catholicism. Henry’s sixth wife, Katherine Parr, “the survivor”, only narrowly avoided arrest when she became too bold in making her reformist religious views known. Fortunately for her she received word of her impending arrest and got to Henry first, successfully convincing him that she was merely putting forward alternative views in order to be instructed by him and benefit from his great learning and to distract him from his painfully ulcerated leg.


Windsor Castle

Among the splendour of the oldest and largest occupied castle in the world we find the final resting place of Henry VIII, who lies in St George’s Chapel under the Quire floor along with his third wife, Jane Seymour. They were unmarked up until the reign of William IV, who laid a marble slab to commemorate those buried there. What Henry would make of this we can only surmise, although we can be sure that he did not imagine this as his final resting place. He had taken possession of Cardinal Wolsey’s sarcophagus after his downfall and planned to transform it into an elaborate tomb depicting himself and his third wife, Jane Seymour. The tomb, however, was not completed in Henry’s lifetime, or during the lives of any of Henry’s children, and his body was never moved. Some have argued that Henry should now be moved and interred in a tomb more in keeping with his wishes. But the fact that this king, who had such a drastic and enduring impact, remains in a crowded and understated vault is significant. It is a fitting metaphor for his real legacy, compared to that which he expected to create. Unusually for a monarch, more than half of Henry’s last will and testament is dedicated to setting out the succession. Despite attempts by his son Edward IV to alter the succession by naming Lady Jane Grey as his successor (which as monarch he was entitled to do), Henry’s vision became reality, with all three of his children succeeding him in the order he had set out: Edward IV, Mary I and Elizabeth I.

Windsor Castle. (© Lucian Milasan/Dreamstime.com)

 Philippa Brewell is a historical trip writer and blogs at britishhistorytours.com.

Kings and Queens in profile: Jane Seymour

History Extra

Jane Seymour. (Popperfoto/Getty Images)

Historian Elizabeth Norton tells you everything you need to know about Jane Seymour, queen of England from 1536 to 1537 as the third wife of Henry VIII

Born: In around 1508
Died: 24 October 1537
Ruled: from 1536 to 1537
Family: the daughter of Sir John Seymour of Wolfhall in Wiltshire and his wife, Margery Wentworth
Successor: Anne of Cleves, Henry’s fourth wife
Remembered for: being the only wife to provide Henry with a son and male heir
Life: Jane Seymour, Henry VIII’s third wife, was born in around 1508. Her kinsman, the courtier Sir Francis Bryan, secured a place for her in the service of Queen Catherine of Aragon. Jane later transferred into the household of Catherine’s successor, Anne Boleyn.
By 1535, Jane was in her late twenties, with few marriage prospects. One contemporary considered her to be “no great beauty, so fair that one would call her rather pale than otherwise”.
She nonetheless attracted the king’s attention – perhaps when he visited Wolfhall in September 1535. Anne Boleyn blamed her miscarriage, in late January 1536, on the developing relationship, complaining to Henry that she had “caught that abandoned woman Jane sitting on your knees”. The queen and her maid had already come to blows.
Jane's rise: Anne’s failure to bear a son was an opportunity for Jane. When Henry sent her a letter and a purse of gold, she refused them, declaring that “she had no greater riches in the world than her honour, which she would not injure for a thousand deaths”.
Henry was smitten with this show of virtue, henceforth insisting on meeting her only with a chaperone. During April they discussed marriage and, on 20 May 1536 – the day after Anne Boleyn’s execution – the couple were betrothed. They married shortly afterwards.
Jane, who took as her motto “bound to obey and serve”, presented herself as meek and obedient. She was, however, instrumental in bringing Henry’s estranged daughter, princess Mary, back to court.
The new queen held conservative religious beliefs. This became apparent in October 1536 when she threw herself on her knees before the king at Windsor, begging him to restore the abbeys for fear that the rebellion, known as the Pilgrimage of Grace, was God’s judgment against him. In response, Henry publicly reminded her of the fate of Anne Boleyn, “enough to frighten a woman who is not very secure”.
Jane's fall: Without a son, Jane was vulnerable, and the postponement of her coronation was ominous. Finally, in March 1537, her pregnancy was announced. Henry was solicitous to his wife, resolving to stay close to her and ordering fat quails from Calais when she desired to eat them.
Jane endured a labour of two days and three nights before bearing a son at Hampton Court on 12 October, to great rejoicing. She was well enough to appear at the christening on 15 October, lying in an antechamber, wrapped in furs.
However, she soon sickened, with her attendants blamed for suffering “her to take great cold and to eat things that her fantasy in sickness called for”. In reality, she was probably suffering from puerperal, or childbed, fever. She died on 24 October.

Jane Seymour, as the only one of Henry VIII’s wives to die as queen, received a royal funeral at Windsor. She was later joined there by the king, who requested burial beside the mother of his only surviving son. Her child succeeded as Edward VI, but died at the age of 15.

Q&A: Where did the monks go after the dissolution of the monasteries?

History Extra

A 15th-century illumination shows monks praying. Some were starved to death when they refused to take Henry VIII’s Oath of Supremacy. (AKG)

Initially, the authorities sought to close smaller communities, meaning those who wished could move to a larger religious house. Once these, too, were marked for closure, those in religious orders had few options.

 

Most commonly they accepted the offer of a pension. This award was generally left to the discretion of the commissioners carrying out the closure rather than being a centrally set sum. The wealth of the monastery would be considered, with those in higher ‘management’ positions, such as an abbot, being offered an increased sum – partly, it has been argued, to entice them to go peacefully. Older members could also receive an increased amount as their chances of future employment were less than the younger members, who could potentially augment their pensions.

 

Some members of religious orders chose exile; others offered resistance to the changes. When the Carthusian monks refused to take the Oath of Supremacy, recognising Henry as head of the church, several were hanged, drawn and quartered, while others ‘disappeared’ in prison and were starved to death.

 

It is often forgotten that the suppression of the monasteries included the closure of female religious houses. Frequently, nuns received smaller pensions than the monks despite their reduced chances of finding future employment. 

 

Elizabeth Throckmorton was the abbess of the Poor Clares at Denny in Cambridgeshire. After the closure of the convent, she, like other nuns, returned to her family. At her nephew’s house at Coughton Court in Warwickshire, she and several others lived in an upper room, wore their habits and continued their conventual life.

 

It is, of course, an irony of the Reformation that Martin Luther, as an Augustinian, had been a member of a religious community.

 

Answered by James Kelly, fellow at Durham University’s Centre for Catholic Studies.

7 things you (probably) didn’t know about Henry VIII's flagship the Mary Rose

History Extra

Henry VIII's Mary Rose (© 19th era/Alamy)

• For 34 years the Mary Rose was Henry VIII’s flagship. Faced with the threat of the French navy and a strong Scottish fleet, Henry started building up his naval firepower as soon as he became king. Built in Portsmouth, the Mary Rose was launched in 1511.
• The Mary Rose first saw battle in 1512, in a naval operation with the Spanish against the French. The English attacked the French and Breton fleets in the English Channel, while the Spanish attacked them in the Bay of Biscay. The ship also helped escort English troops over to France when, in 1522, the countries went head to head once more.
• There were 415 crew members listed on board the Mary Rose in 1513, but during wartime operations there would have been more on board – numbers could have reached around 700 in total, says the Mary Rose Museum. Even with the normal crew size of around 400, conditions would have been very crowded. Most people on board were in their late teens or early twenties.
• The Mary Rose sank in July 1545 in the battle of the Solent. Hundreds of men aboard the ship drowned, and only around 25 survived. There could be a number of reasons why she sank while turning: human error, overloading, a gust of wind that made the ship unstable, or a cannonball fired by the French. The most likely reason for the loss of the ship was human error, says the Mary Rose Museum.
• The ship was discovered in May 1971, and raised in 1982. As the Mary Rose sank into very fine silt, much of the ship and the items on board – including tools owned by onboard carpenters, ointments and medicine flasks used by the surgeon, and a large number of wooden dishes – are very well preserved.
• The remains of a small dog named Hatch were found on board the ship. Although he can’t be attributed to a specific breed, most of which originated after 1545, he is classed as a terrier-type, most closely related to the Jack Russell. Hatch's remains went on display four years ago at the Mary Rose Museum.
• Approximately 19,000 artefacts have been recovered from the wreck site, which has taken more than 30 years to excavate. Now in the final stages of conservation, she today sits in the Mary Rose Museum in Portsmouth.

The reluctant ambassador: the life and times of Tudor diplomat Sir Thomas Chaloner

History Extra

Sir Thomas Chaloner aged 28. (Private collection, courtesy of Richard Chaloner, Lord Gisborough. Photograph by Peter Morgan)

Here, writing for History Extra, O'Sullivan introduces you to the reluctant ambassador who longed for his home in England…

 

This story is set in one of the most turbulent periods of English history, when the government's religious and political policies seemed to change from year to year, and ambitious courtiers and diplomats needed to watch their balance on fortune's slippery wheel. Those who fell off could easily end their lives on the block, as did so many of Thomas Chaloner's patrons and colleagues. But he himself was a survivor because, as he once wrote to a friend, he knew how to keep his opinions to himself.

 

In 1541 the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, ruler of Spain, the Netherlands and much else, collected a large army to deal once and for all with a pressing problem – the Barbary pirates, who were supported by the Turkish sultan and constituted a permanent hazard for all who sailed in the Mediterranean. Charles did not have the manpower to launch a full-scale attack on Constantinople itself but he reckoned that once his army had landed near the pirates' main base in Algiers, resistance would crumble. Then Algiers would fall and thousands of Christians, enslaved by the pirates, could be rescued.

 

Unfortunately, from the start things went very wrong. Opposition was fiercer than expected, the weather was brutal to troops that had to spend nights in the open, and to cap it all Charles's fleet of war ships and transports, on which his soldiers relied for food and also for an eventual withdrawal, was shattered by a violent storm while at anchor. In less than an hour half the fleet had been sunk, with the loss of 8,000 men.

 

Accompanying Charles on his expedition was a small group of Englishmen, of whom the youngest was the 20-year-old Thomas Chaloner, who was experiencing his first taste of foreign travel. When the storm struck he was on board a galley that soon lost its anchor, along with its neighbours. William Hakluyt, chronicler of Tudor voyages, takes up the story:

 

“Thomas Chaloner escaped most wonderfully with his life. For the galley wherein he was, being either dashed against the rocks or shaken with mighty storms and so cast away, after he had saved himself a long while by swimming, when his strength failed him, his arms & hands being faint and weary, with great difficulty laying hold with his teeth on a cable, which was cast out of the next galley, not without breaking and loss of certain of his teeth, at length [he] recovered himself, and returned home into his country in safety.”

 

Thus it was that Chaloner's career very nearly came to an end before it had properly started. One might remark that it was lucky he could swim – an unusual skill in those days, even for professional sailors. He had other accomplishments too. His father, Roger, a successful London mercer, had seen him through grammar school and Cambridge, and had then found him a place in the household of Thomas Cromwell – a position seen as a stepping stone towards the higher ranks of government service. 

 

By the time of his near drowning Chaloner was already fluent in Latin – essential at university where all the lectures were in Latin. At his college, thought to be St John's, the students were even expected to talk to each other in that language. More unusually, Chaloner also had a grasp of French and Italian, implying that Roger had hired private tutors to teach him these languages, which were not on the school or university curriculum. Something else that was to turn out an asset for him was that he had made friends at university with a certain William Cecil, later Lord Burghley. Many years later Cecil would become Elizabeth I's secretary of state, and the most powerful man in England.

 

After the failure to capture Algiers, Charles V's depleted and demoralised army sailed home in the transports that had survived the storm. Chaloner and the other Englishmen accompanied the emperor to Spain. They were no doubt shocked to learn that during their absence Henry VIII's recently married young wife, Catherine Howard, had been accused of adultery, and was now in the Tower, shortly to be executed. 

 

Soon after Chaloner finally returned home he was able to make his first real step up the ladder of promotion. He was appointed one of the two clerks to the Privy Council, the body that, under the monarch, effectively ran the country. The council dealt with all kinds of matter, from private requests and punishments to issues of national finance, diplomacy and war. The clerks were well paid but expected to work hard for their money. They kept detailed minutes of council meetings, wrote dozens of letters, and were often dispatched far and wide on council business. 

 

^{Sir Thomas Chaloner aged 38. (Private collection, courtesy of Richard Chaloner, Lord Gisborough. Photograph by Peter Morgan)}

 

Because of his ability to speak Italian and French, Chaloner often found himself sent to meet foreigners – for instance, to deliver funds to bands of mercenaries hired to fight England's wars. As he became more experienced he was trusted with more delicate missions. To take one example, there was the case of Robert Holgate, archbishop of York, who, at the age of 68 had caused some scandal by marrying Barbara Wentworth who was more than 40 years his junior. Then a young man appeared who claimed that the marriage was invalid because he and Barbara had been betrothed when they were both children. Chaloner was sent up to York along with an ecclesiastical lawyer to investigate.

 

After the death of Henry VIII in 1547 the country was run by Edward Seymour, duke of Somerset, as protector for the nine-year-old Edward VI. Somerset had an ambitious policy to unite England and Scotland by betrothing Edward to the young Mary, Queen of Scots, and when the Scots objected to this plan he decided to use force. He led an army across the border towards Edinburgh, defeating an ill-trained and out-of-date Scottish force at the battle of Pinkie Cleugh. Chaloner played a major part in Somerset's campaign by organising and paying the various mercenary bands that accompanied the English. As reward he was knighted by Somerset – another important step up the ladder. 

 

By now Chaloner had married a wealthy widow, Joan Leigh, and on the death of his father found himself the head of an extended family that included two younger brothers, two unmarried sisters and various elderly relatives. He had a house in London and lands to look after in different parts of the country, and consequently spent many hours on horseback, either on missions for the council or to oversee his estates in the north of England. Somehow he also found the time to write poetry, and to translate works from Latin – one of these being the well-known satire by Erasmus, In Praise of Folly. This period of his life is fairly well documented because an account book of his income and expenditure has survived.

 

On Edward VI’s early death in 1553 – probably from tuberculosis – he was succeeded as monarch by his Catholic sister Mary. Chaloner composed, but of course did not publish, a poem about Lady Jane Grey in which he berates “cruel and pitiless Mary” for executing her young rival. While many others, such as his friend William Cecil, chose to leave the country during Mary's reign, the cautious Chaloner not only stayed but managed to remain in government service. Mary even sent him to Scotland to meet the regent, Mary of Guise, and complain about Scottish involvement in anti-English rebellion in Northern Ireland.

 

When Elizabeth I succeeded Mary in 1558, Chaloner was sent to the new emperor of the Holy Roman Empire to discuss the possibility that one of his sons, the archduke Ferdinand, might marry the queen. Chaloner came home with a portrait of the young Ferdinand I to present to Elizabeth, and for a short time marriage seemed on the cards. But then it became known that Ferdinand was already secretly married to a German woman, so attention shifted to his brother, the archduke Charles, as a possible suitor. 

 

^{A portrait of Queen Elizabeth I from around 1575. (Imagno/Getty Images)} 

 

Cecil sent Chaloner to the Netherlands in June 1559 to be a fully-fledged ambassador to Philip II, who was then holding court at Ghent. When Philip decided to return to Spain there was a discussion about whether or not England needed a permanent ambassador at his court in Madrid. Chaloner suggested a few names to Cecil but was horrified to learn that he himself had been picked. He had known for some time that he would hate Spain, “that country of heat and inquisition”. When he finally landed at Bilbao in February 1562 he found that all his fears were justified. His luggage was taken away to be searched for heretical books, and when he complained to Philip, no apology was forthcoming. After a difficult journey he reached Madrid, only to be advised by the previous ambassador to start requesting his recall home straight away.

 

Chaloner proved to be a cautious and careful ambassador but, judging by his letters home, he was also a worrier. He worried about his lack of funds and the high cost of living in Madrid; about his difficulties in obtaining interviews with Philip; and his failure to penetrate the aura of secrecy that hung about the Spanish court. He worried about not receiving his due wage as ambassador, and whether this might be due to its having been stolen en route.

 

An important part of Chaloner’s job was to obtain and send home the latest news from Spain, and also to deliver the latest news from England, and this was sometimes difficult. For example, Chaloner was caused a good deal of embarrassment when in the summer of 1562 Elizabeth took the decision to send military aid to the Huguenots in France who were engaged in a civil war against the French government. William Cecil told Chaloner to deny that any such decision had been taken, which he did – until he heard from other sources that an English army had actually been sent to fight in France, thus completely contradicting what he had told everybody at court.

 

Above all, Chaloner worried about his own health. He put down his “quartan agues” (bouts of fever every few days) and his inability to sleep at night to Spanish weather and Spanish food. During those sleepless nights he occupied himself by composing reams of Latin verse that remained unpublished until several years after his death. Reading his letters to Cecil and his other friends, one would put him down as a dedicated hypochondriac, except for the fact that when he was finally allowed to quit Spain some four years later he had to take to his bed, and died within a few months. His ‘agues’ were probably due to malaria, but according to Andreas Vesalius, Philip's court physician, he also suffered from kidney stones brought on by drinking Spanish wines that had been adulterated with lime or chalk to make them look whiter.

 

A couple of years after Chaloner first arrived in Madrid, relations between England and Spain, not brilliant in the first place, suddenly darkened. This was because when Elizabeth I joined in the French wars of religion it became possible for English sea captains to obtain ‘letters of marque’ allowing them to attack French shipping, or to confiscate cargoes bound for France. This was a lucrative business, and soon there were dozens of these freebooters at large, many of them not considering it necessary to distinguish too closely between French and other foreign ships. The Spanish authorities saw them as pirates, and Philip retaliated by ordering all English ships trading in Spanish waters to be seized, and their crews imprisoned. In most cases these sailors were treated extremely roughly, and had to subsist on a diet of bread and water. 

 

It was Chaloner's duty as ambassador to intercede for these unfortunates. He received information from his contacts up and down Spain as well as numerous messages from the prisoners themselves. He pulled every string he could think of, worrying all the time that he was not doing enough. Always he was up against the rigid Spanish bureaucracy. Officials were never in a hurry to help, especially in cases concerning ‘heretics’. All this did nothing to improve the ambassador's health and peace of mind. Nevertheless, he did succeed in certain cases in achieving the release of sailors who would otherwise have died in prison.

 

A final worry for Chaloner was that he had no heir to carry on his name and look after his estates. His wife, Joan, had died childless many years earlier, and now he was isolated in a foreign land where he was unlikely to meet any eligible women – the ones he did meet being Catholics and therefore for him unmarriageable. 

 

However, before he became an ambassador, Chaloner had as a young widower enjoyed a full social life, and it seems that he was able to persuade a lady whom he had known at that time to visit him in Spain with a view to matrimony. Audrey Frodsham, aged about 35 and unmarried, was from a gentry family of Cheshire. We do not know exactly when she and her servants arrived at Bilbao, but we do know from oblique phrases in Chaloner's letters that she must have left in June 1564, just when Chaloner was embroiled in the issue of the imprisoned sailors. 

 

Audrey's trip is important because by the time she left she must have been pregnant with Chaloner’s future son, another Thomas. Some historians who have written about Chaloner have assumed that Thomas Chaloner junior must have been Chaloner's stepson, but this now seems unlikely [the baby was likely conceived sometime before June 1564]. In any case, when Chaloner did retire home, more than a year after Audrey's visit, he found her and her baby in his house to welcome him. In September 1565 the couple were married, and a month after that Chaloner died, having made a will leaving everything to his son and his widow.

 

As ambassador Chaloner was unlucky because relations between Spain and England were starting to deteriorate during his time in office. Nevertheless, Sir Thomas performed his task with skill and discretion. One could say he was a man who dedicated his life to duty.

 

Dan O'Sullivan is author of The Reluctant Ambassador: The Life and Times of Sir Thomas Chaloner, a Tudor Diplomat (Amberley Publishing, 2016).

The hidden lives of Henry VIII's six wives

History Extra

Of all the contemporary accounts of Henry VIII's wives, perhaps none are more comprehensive than those left by Eustace Chapuys. © Lauren Mackay & Musee de Chateau

1) Catherine of Aragon: from beautiful warrior queen to desolate estranged wife

Catherine of Aragon was the daughter of the power couple of Europe, Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, and aunt to the powerful Holy Roman emperor Charles V. She was reputedly a blue-eyed, red-haired beauty who captured Henry’s heart and the hearts of her subjects, only to be discarded after 20 years of marriage when Henry met the beguiling Anne Boleyn.
Catherine vehemently resisted attempts by Henry to replace her with Anne as his wife and queen, but she could not do this alone. Catherine needed a legal mind, someone who possessed diplomatic shrewdness, experience and cool reasoning, someone who could argue her cause before the king and maintain cordial relations between Charles V and Henry. That man was Eustace Chapuys, a gifted lawyer and diplomat at Charles’s imperial court
Following a particularly successful mediation between the royal Hapsburg family and the independent Duchy of Savoy, this accomplished Savoyard from the small town of Annecy in what is now south-east France was appointed imperial ambassador to the Tudor court.
While the conflicting accounts of Catherine’s character have been drawn more along the battle lines of the bitter divorce with Henry VIII, it is through Chapuys’ dispatches that she is revealed to us as a fearless warrior queen – who defeated the Scots in battle in 1513 – and a vulnerable, desolate wife.

_{A portrait of Catherine of Aragon. Chapuys was bowled over by her “sheer kindness and benevolence”. © Art Archive}
Catherine’s admiration of Chapuys is evident in her correspondence with Charles: “You could not have chosen a better ambassador, his wisdom encourages and comforts me, and when my councillors through fear hesitate to answer the charges against me, he is always ready to undertake the burden of my defence... I consider him deserving of all your favour.”
Catherine was cast aside by her husband and the court and eventually neglected by her nephew Charles. And so Chapuys became her counsellor, advisor, advocate, life coach and her window to the world.
In 1536, with Catherine clearly ailing after her seven-year battle with Henry, Chapuys rushed to her bedside to once again rally her spirits. He reported on what would be their last meeting: “She was pleased, out of sheer kindness and benevolence, and without any occasion or merit it on my part, to thank me for the many services which, she said, I had rendered her on former occasions, as well as the trouble I had taken in coming down to visit her, at a time too when, if it should please God to take her to Himself, it would at least be a consolation to die as it were in my arms, and not all alone like a beast.”
Catherine died at Kimbolton Caste in Cambridgeshire as Chapuys was returning to London. In his final, intensely personal report he reveals his deep affection for a woman who, in his view, could never be replaced as Queen of England.

2) Anne Boleyn: a beguiling combination of intelligence, insecurity and relentless ambition

Anne Boleyn's elusive personality and contradictory reputation continue to enthrall us, but it is through Chapuys’ dispatches that she emerges as an enticingly unique creature: intelligent, impetuous and ambitious.
Chapuys had loyally served some of the most powerful women in Europe: both governesses of the Low Countries – Margaret of Austria and Mary of Hungary – and Charles V’s wife, the Empress Isabella. He recognised in Anne the same political ingenuity.
Anne was a tempest of life. She was rash and bold and often quarrelled violently with Henry. We have Chapuys to thank for preserving several of the most quoted and evocative of Anne’s outbursts as he deftly captured her moods, her insecurities and growing frustrations as queen-in-waiting: “I see that some fine morning you [Henry]... will cast me off. I have been waiting long, and might in the meanwhile have contracted some advantageous marriage... but alas! Farewell to my time and youth spent to no purpose at all.”
Chapuys’ support of Catherine of Aragon and opposition to Anne Boleyn has so often been construed as a mark of his opposition to Lutheranism and the English Reformation. However it was his commission as ambassador to attempt to reconcile Catherine and Henry and restore Catherine to her rightful place on the throne of England. He could therefore hardly have been a supporter of Anne, whatever her religious leanings.

_{A woodcut showing Anne Boleyn’s coronation on 1 June 1533. Chapuys refused to believe the charges that led to Anne’s death. © AKG Images}
Chapuys also offers us an insight into Anne’s downfall, caused by the machinations of Henry and his chief minister, Thomas Cromwell. Chapuys and Cromwell had an intense and complex relationship, a mixture of rivalry and mutual admiration, yet Chapuys could not shake from his mind how instrumental Cromwell had been in engineering Anne’s downfall.
Crucially, Chapuys addressed the charge which has long stained Anne’s reputation and that of her brother: the accusation of incest. He refused to believe a word of it, reporting that “no proof of his guilt was produced except that of his having once passed many hours in her company, and other little follies”.
Whatever he felt about Anne’s treatment of Catherine and her daughter, Chapuys believed that the execution of Anne, and the five men condemned with her, was unconscionable - for him they were innocent of the charges.
Although not present at the executions, Chapuys provides one of the vital narratives of the bloody events. His final entry on Anne is a testament to the woman he thought her to be: “No one ever showed more courage or greater readiness to meet death than she did... When orders came from the king to have (her execution) delayed until today, she seemed sorry... since she was well disposed and prepared for death, she should be dispatched immediately.”
His words are heartfelt in their admiration.

3) Jane Seymour: a master of managing the king – without him realising it

Jane Seymour was a more complex figure than many nowadays believe. Popular perceptions range from either a simple, soft spoken, docile and subservient woman of whom Henry would eventually have tired, or a shrewd and calculating young woman who seized the chance to snare a monarch. Chapuys however recognised her skilfulness in managing Henry without him realising it – the perfect wife.
Chapuys’ first impressions of Jane were of a woman “of middle stature and no great beauty, so fair that one would call her rather pale than otherwise. She is over 25 years old... not a woman of great wit, but she may have good understanding.”
Chapuys’ observations suggest that, while Jane may not have been of great intellect, she may have been more astute than she let on. Though lacking Anne Boleyn’s legendary sensuality, she nevertheless possessed an easy grace and innocence.

_{Jane Seymour in c1536. Her easy grace and quiet determination appear to have served her well in Henry’s court. © Bridgeman Art Library}
Chapuys keenly appreciated the mutual affection and loyalty that developed between Jane and Mary, the only surviving child of Henry’s marriage with Catherine of Aragon. Jane was sincere in her desire to restore Mary’s position at court.
From Chapuys’ few accounts of Jane, we gain an insight into a quiet, determined woman who could entreat Henry for the lives of Catholic rebels as well as fight to reunite her step-daughter Mary with her father. From Chapuys’ first audience with Jane, his admiration is evident; he had again found a queen he could revere.
“I ended by begging her to take care of the princess’s affairs; which she kindly promised to do, saying that she would work in earnest to deserve the honorable name which I had given her of pacificator, that is, ‘preserver and guardian of peace’.”
Chapuys provides us with a sympathetic image of Jane: mediator, queen and mother of Henry’s only male heir.

4) Anne of Cleves: not so dim, ugly and socially inept as Henry would have us believe

Chapuys was in Brussels for the first six months of 1540, and missed Henry’s disastrous and brief marriage to Anne of Cleves. Our glimpses of her during this time are few and limited to Henry’s damning observations: dim, ugly and socially inept.
Thankfully, the real Anne becomes more illuminated through Chapuys’ constant stream of dispatches following her divorce from Henry. Anne was reported to be a statuesque, slender, woman, “of middling beauty, with determined and resolute countenance”.

_{Henry’s assessment of Anne, shown in a Hans Holbein the Younger portrait, may not have been strictly accurate. © Bridgeman Art Library}
It was during Christmas 1541 that Chapuys first set eyes on Anne. He wrote that she made a supremely dignified entrance at Hampton Court, where she met her successor as queen, Catherine Howard. “Having entered the room, Lady Anne approached the queen with as much reverence and punctilious ceremony as if she herself were the most insignificant damsel about court.”
Chapuys was well aware of Anne’s reformist inclinations. But on a personal level his reports are generous in their admiration, and he was pleased to see the genuine warmth between her and Henry’s daughter Mary.
Anne was a true survivor. She would outlive Henry and go on to experience her stepdaughter Mary’s reign.

5) Catherine Howard: all she wanted to do was please those around her – but in one critical respect, she failed

Of Anne’s successor, Catherine Howard, popular culture has left us an image of a pretty, vapid, ineffectual young woman whose allegedly unbridled sexuality would be her undoing. Chapuys, however, saw her vulnerability and the precarious position into which she was forced. He shifts the focus away from that famous sexuality to more significant aspects of her nature, namely her relationship with Henry, the firm hold her relatives had on her, and her rather endearingly earnest desire to please those around her.
Often dismissed as a queen with little power or political sway, she is viewed as more of a trophy wife admired by her considerably older husband. But this is not the Catherine of Chapuys’ letters. He perceived that Henry’s intention was to mould Catherine into the ideal Tudor queen, something that had eluded him for a number of years.
From her inauguration festivities Chapuys keenly observed her role: “[She] took occasion and courage to beg and entreat the king for the release of Maistre Huyet (Thomas Wyatt) a prisoner in the said Tower, which petition the king granted.”

_{Catherine Howard was at the mercy of her ambitious family and a king who wished to mould her into the ideal queen. © Bridgeman Art Library}
Catherine won the hearts of her subjects, her predecessor, and to an extent Chapuys himself, but he regretted that she and Mary had a fractious relationship – hardly surprising, as Mary was around five years older than her new stepmother.
Within two years Catherine would be executed for adultery with two men, Francis Dereham, with whom she was involved before her marriage to Henry, and Thomas Culpepper, although there is no evidence that the affair went beyond words. Catherine’s last weeks are meticulously recorded by the ambassador, including a peculiar request that the executioner’s block be sent to her room.
“In the same evening she asked to see the block, pretending that she wanted to know how she was to place her head on it. This was granted, and the block being brought in, she herself tried and placed her head on it by way of experiment.”
Even in death, Catherine had not wanted to disappoint.

6) Katherine Parr: a shrewd political operator and a calming foil for Henry's rages

By the time Henry married his sixth and final wife, Katherine Parr, Chapuys and the rest of Europe were almost indifferent to his penchant for weddings. But by then, Chapuys was beginning to feel his age. He worried constantly that Mary would have no one to promote her claim to the Tudor throne after he was gone. He could not have been more relieved then, upon meeting Katherine Parr for the first time, to find her graceful, a good role model for Mary, and a calming foil for Henry’s increasingly bad temper.
Chapuys was thrilled to report that she was a firm supporter of Mary’s rehabilitation at court; it seemed that she was to pick up where Jane Seymour had left off.
Katherine also displayed a certain political acumen, which was evident in her efforts to maintain good relations with the Holy Roman emperor (still Charles V). Chapuys trusted that Katherine would do all she could to preserve this alliance. From his first real audience with Katherine, the ambassador had a chance to observe Mary and her new stepmother together. He was gratified to see a genuine affection between the two women and thanked Katherine for the “good offices which she had always exercised towards the preservation of friendship between your majesty and the king; and also thanked her for the favour she showed to the Lady Mary”.

_{A c1545 painting of Katherine Parr, who was one of the few to acknowledge Chapuys’ contribution to the English court over 15 years. © National Portrait Gallery}
Katherine warmly assured Chapuys that his gracious words were too kind, but that it was her affection for – and duty to – Mary that influenced her; indeed, she wished she could do more. Chapuys was thoroughly conquered by Katherine’s modest response.
One of Chapuys’ last dispatches brings to life their touching farewell audience. Despite his crippling gout, Chapuys was determined to show Katherine and Mary his respect and devotion, and remained standing despite the severe pain he was in. Katherine could see his discomfort and anxiously insisted that he be seated in her presence.

She was one of the few at Henry’s court who acknowledged Chapuys’ great service to England. Clearly flattered, the ambassador was finally able to leave England (he moved to the now Belgian town of Louvain in 1545, and died 11 years later). At last he felt he had discharged his mission entrusted to him by Catherine of Aragon all those years ago.

Lauren Mackay is a historian based at the University of Newcastle in Australia. She is currently researching her PhD on Thomas and George Boleyn